The Search for Glory
by hodorpotato
Summary: The boys are hot on the tracks of another demon, one which could lead to the end of mankind as we know it. With Castiel gone, can the two handle the monster themselves? What will Dean do when his mistake puts his brother's life is on the line? A story of destiny, love, and the true meaning of what is holy.


Chapter 1: A Holy Discovery

The old Impala slid into one of the many empty spaces in the lot, possibly a little too fast, its headlights illuminating a grimy building with one too many flashing neon signs.

"Okay Sammy," Dean said gruffly. The weariness in his voice obvious. He had been driving since 5 am sharp and it was now approaching 10pm. "We're not going to get any closer to Gallatin tonight."

"Do we even know where the hell we are?" Sam groaned. "Cause I really gotta piss."

"We passed a sign saying Millersville about ten miles back." Dean said. "So I would assume we're in Millersville."

"Great. And you take us to the worst bar in a 50 mile radius?"

"Cut me a little slack Sammy Boy. The old run down bars always have the cheapest drinks and the hottest girls. Plus there's a motel right there. I can drink to my hearts content tonight." he retorted.

"Fine." Sam huffed, and threw open the Impala door. "I'm going to the bathroom, see you later." The door slammed shut behind him.

Dean scrambled out after him, mumbling something about jackass brothers and sleep. The two took their time walking up to the entrance of the bar. Being hunters, the two had become extremely cautious, almost to the point of paranoia. After thoroughly checking the inside and seeing a lack of any suspicious behavior, for a bar, Dean approached the bartender.

"Excuse me, can I get a Jack Daniels on the rocks?" Dean called. "And could you tell me how close this place is to Gallatin?"

A gruff, thick set looking man handed Dean his drink. "About a 5 hour drive on the interstate." he said.

Meanwhile, Sam, shaking with the need to relieve himself, grabbed Dean's arm to get his attention.

"Hey Dean, I'm going to go to the bathroom." Sam said quickly before running to the left of the bar where a sign indicated the location of the restroom.

There were three stalls lined up against one wall and a grimy looking sink. The little bathroom was in no way sanitary.

Sam sized up all three stalls and decided that the stall in the middle seemed the most sanitary. He wandered in and did his business. He observed the graffiti covered walls of the stall. A small hole was cut to the left of him, about waist high and just over an inch in diameter. Sam crouched down and peered through it. He could see directly into the leftmost stall, grime covered walls and all. Sam jolted up. He knew exactly what he was seeing. It was a gloryhole.

Sam felt a familiar tightness in his pants. Being constantly on the road with his brother had its downfalls. Sam almost never had any 'personal time' to relieve himself. Sam took a deep breath before sticking his hand down his pocket in search of a pen. He clutched a red marker and carefully scrawled a little message above the hole.

"MEET AT 1AM FOR SOME FUN ;)"

"No one will really come," Sam muttered to himself shaking head. He put the lid back on the marker before replacing it in his pocket. He opened the stall door and washed his hands before staring at himself in the mirror. Did he really want to do this? Was the relief worth it? Sam ran his hands through his hair. It really had come to that.

Meanwhile Dean had grown bored conversing with the brusque bartender and had decided to find a booth where he could finally relax and enjoy a good whiskey. He hoped the motel across the street had a vacancy, particularly one with conjoining rooms. Dean had been feeling a bit repressed lately and he needed some alone time to release some of that stress. His meat wand twitched at the thought. Maybe he could get a head start in the bathroom now, he thought, as he saw Sammy walking towards him.

"Sam, you go on and book us some rooms at that motel. It's my turn to pee. Oh and watch my drink, would you?" Dean advised. Sam gave him a curt nod.

Dean hurried to the bathrooms, his yogurt slinger hardening with the thought of finally being touched. He ignored the filthy state of the bathroom and rushed into the first stall he could. The middle stall.


End file.
